Sweet
by scarlett2u
Summary: For Limoversary 2013. "...In the back of his limo." "Several times." Missing moments celebrating the magical night that launched a million trillion butterflies and one amazing 'ship.


This is my first time posting on , so it seems apropos that I write about another pivotal first time. This is intended as a tribute and homage to our beloved Gossip Girl show. No copyright infringement is intended. I don't own these characters, but I fear they own me.

Caution: steamy limo windows ahead!

First times were supposed to be awkward and a little scary. But those were the last things on Blair Waldorf's mind after she'd shed her dress and her inhibitions, and taken the stage at Victrola. After that, could her longstanding virginity be far behind?

The limo ride home should've been the end of the evening. Instead it was the beginning of everything else.

"You were…amazing up there."

She'd slid over across the (much too?) roomy seat until her face was level with his, mere inches away, until they were breathing the same air. And then she'd kissed him. When their lips met, it didn't matter if the kiss had been prompted by gratitude for the praise and the lift home; by curiosity for forbidden fruit, or pure animal attraction. That kiss changed the whole game and neither of them wanted it to end.

To be fair, Chuck had tried. "Are you sure?"

She could've said no; she could've made a joke of the whole thing; she could've pretended that it never even happened…except she couldn't do anything but kiss him again.

Then she was in his arms, in his lap, with his hands in her hair, sliding down her arms, across her lower back, cupping that delicious ass that had swayed so invitingly at him on the stage. It seemed like his hands were everywhere at once, caressing her, briefly holding her hands, entwining in her hair once more.

Music and lyrics pumped through the limo's speaker system announcing the singer's passionate vow that he wouldn't "let this go." They clung to each other, as her small, shaking hands reached up to slide his jacket off his shoulder and make short work of his bow tie. He felt them tremble as she reached again to slowly unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt. He paused for a second, bringing his hands to cover hers, to quell the slight tremor in them, and was shocked to note that his hands were shaking as well.

It startled him and forced his eyes open as he gazed down into the dark depths of hers. He was drowning in her, dazzled by the city lights through the moon roof of the limo and the night air that swirled around them, and all he could do was hold on for dear life. He gripped the lacy hem of her silk chemise slip and slid it slowly up over the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts, past her shoulders and that glorious mane of hair that crowned her head. And then he drank her in with his eyes again.

"You're beautiful," the whisper sprang from his lips as he kissed his way down the luscious column of her neck.

She smiled and purred her approval. The heat of his words and in his amber eyes warmed her through to the core. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and once again his came down to cover and assist hers. Offensive buckle aside, victorious fingers lowered his zipper and impatiently shoved his pants down and out of the way.

Blessedly free, his hands returned to her sides. Her skin was like yards of the finest, palest silk. So smooth, so warm. The encouraging little mewls she was making increased in volume as his hands swept up to cup her breasts. They fit his hands perfectly, and when his fingers teased her rose-tipped nipples, they immediately hardened into tight, tiny buds. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was on one of them, gently laving it with his tongue before sucking it into his eager mouth. If anything, her nipples pebbled even more as he sucked, lavishing attention on her other breast with his fingers and teasing it with one of the strands of pearls still around her neck. She was so responsive to him, to everything he did. It was beyond his wildest dreams. It was…

"Amazing."

The deep timbre of his voice as he spoke the word seemed to echo the voice inside her head that was screaming the same sentiment. Oh, God, she never wanted him to stop touching her. The feel of his hands and lips on her body. And the way he smelled…like scotch and silk and some mysterious musk that could only be Chuck Bass.

She wondered if he could possibly taste as good as he smelled. She nipped at one strong shoulder as her restless hands slid down, slipping inside his dark silk boxers and grasping his already hard cock. His breath came out in a hiss and her eyes flew up to his, unsure if she'd done something wrong. He smiled and the hiss turned into a moan. She returned his smile and then resumed the task at hand, stroking his cock, marveling at how good he felt in her hands. When she shifted in his arms again and she slid to her knees to take him into her mouth and stroke him with her tongue, he panicked. It was too much. The sight of her in the light streaming from the roof, her hair mussed, her porcelain skin flushed, her cherry lips wrapped around him….he was going to embarrass himself like a pimply-faced virginal schoolboy. He had never been more terrified in his life. He had to make this good for her.

Special.

Memorable.

What she deserved.

Because it was for her, and she was…

"Perfect."

She smiled again, not protesting as he pulled her hand up and kissed its palm. He grabbed both her hands and gently pulled her up and into his arms again. Blair Waldorf was made to be kissed and he was only too happy to oblige.

Their lips never parted as he lowered her onto the seat. Slowly, painfully almost, he broke the kiss to gaze down at her. Her hair fanned out around her like a cloud and her eyes were shining dark with desire as she looked up with absolute trust. His mouth went dry as her thighs parted, ready to draw him into a seductive embrace and completing the picture she was painting of the ultimate siren. His beautiful, amazing, perfect Blair.

The look of awed bliss on his face that had been there during her dance at Victrola was back and it went straight to her head. Dazed, she reached up a hand and caressed his face, admiring the hooded amber eyes, the strong nose, the sensual lips, the artistic angles of his cheekbones and jawline… Had he always possessed such masculine beauty? It felt like she was seeing him for the very first time, like she was seeing something that had been there all along but was at the same time completely uncharted territory. Maybe it was the open look on his face, like he was letting her see him—the real him, not the one cloaked in a mask of preternatural cool and premature cynicism—the man inside. She saw him…and she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She wanted him beyond shyness, beyond fear. Here, alone in the dark, it was like they were the only two people on earth. Everything else had fallen away. It suddenly seemed like time was moving way too slowly and she needed to get closer to him.

Her hands went to her waist, to the lacy little ivory La Perlas she still had on. Tucking a thumb into either side of the waistband, she began to slowly ease them over the curve of her hips, her eyes never leaving Chuck's. Somehow she had gone from burlesque to giving him his own private striptease. She felt breathless and fluttery as they slowly slid down her thighs, past her knees, her ankles…and she almost giggled as she realized she was still wearing the strappy sandals she had danced in onstage.

"Leave them on," his voice rasped. "The stockings too."

And suddenly his hands had gone to her thighs, exploring them through the finely knit silk, running his fingers over the top band and onto the more exquisite silkiness of her upper thigh. He didn't stop until he'd reached the fine curls at her center and she gave out a little cry.

"Shh, sweetheart." He gave her a light but reverent kiss before exploring her folds. His first thought was that she was wet, so wet, and it sent a surge to his already hardened cock and a shock to his entire system. She wanted this, maybe as much as he did. He gloried in her cries of delight as he stroked her clit as a virtuoso lovingly explores his instrument, enjoying the different sounds and music his actions produced. When one finger slowly slid inside her, she trembled around him and let out an aria of bliss.

"Chuck…please…" It was not enough. She was begging for more.

"Patience, patience," his voice sounded far away. Was he speaking to her or to himself? He brought slickened fingers to his mouth and swept his tongue over them. "Mmm," he smiled down at her. "Just a taste," he murmured, before loving her again with his fingers, this time adding another digit to his exploration of her body.

"Please, please…I need you now." The tension had built to the degree where she was ready to scream if he were not inside her right this instant.

He took a moment to completely divest himself of his remaining garments and reached for his coat pocket and the condoms concealed within. Like the Boy Scouts, Chuck Bass always came prepared. Ripping open the packet with hands that were still not completely steady, he sheathed himself.

It was time.

Suddenly the gravity of the moment descended on him. This was crazy. He was Chuck Bass, for goodness' sake, yet he felt that instead he was the one in a brave new world. Everything that had come before, all his years of 'experience', were but a prelude, a dress rehearsal, and this was the single most important moment in his life.

The pivotal moment.

The end of something and the beginning of everything else.

She sensed his hesitation and looked up at him, her eyes bold and her smile encouraging. She was ready.

He took her hands again and kissed each one. Then he reached down, spread those velvety thighs and slowly, with great deliberation and equal desire, entered her.

"I'll be gentle," his soft whisper was like a vow.

She said nothing, just kept looking at him with a look of awed bliss of her own.

He gave her a moment to get used to the sensation of his being inside her—no, that was a lie, he needed that moment every bit as much as she did. She was so warm and wet, he felt like she was burning him, surrounding him with liquid heat. His heart hammered in his chest and his fears of virginal schoolboy disgrace came back to haunt him.

Taking a deep breath, he took her hands again in his. He couldn't seem to stop touching them; she had clearly turned him into some sort of handholding idiot. Still holding one hand, he pulled her close to him once more and began to thrust a little deeper, all the while whispering to her that she was beautiful, amazing and perfect.

Being what was considered the Oldest Living Upper East Side Virgin, Blair had heard many tales of what first times were like. And this was like nothing she'd ever expected. The intimate sensation of being close to him, in all senses of the word, of feeling him inside her, filling her to perfection. The words "beautiful, amazing, and perfect" described perfectly how it felt.

"More," she purred back into his ear, and was grateful when his thrusts escalated in depth and intensity. Any pain she might've felt was drowned out by waves of pleasure. She was completely overwhelmed by her senses. The feel of his body sliding against hers was like a dance of its own. She wrapped her body even more tightly around him, glorying in the feeling of his chest hair teasing her skin and her stockings slipping around his waist and back. She felt deliciously naughty crossing her feet, still shod in her strappy sandals. His natural scent mingled with hers and created a spicy perfume in the air. His encouraging whispers were an erotic catalyst to the arousal that was already threatening to overtake her. She only knew that she wanted more, more, more…even if she thought she might die from it all.

She was going to be the death of him, he knew. How was he supposed to focus on making this the ideal experience for her when he could barely focus on anything? Between her breathy little purrs in his ear and his own thundering heart, he couldn't hear himself think. He forced his eyes open to look down at her, but the sight of Blair Waldorf, naked and immersed in pleasure, was just too much. His eyes squeezed shut again and he gave up on the idea that he could do anything other than feel. He just tried to stay strong long enough to help her find her release.

The tension was almost unbearable. He was making her feel so much, so many things she had never even thought were possible before. Each kiss, each caress, each achingly sweet stroke, every whispered word just made it that much more intense, until finally, something inside her seemed to shatter into a million tiny pieces, suffusing her with warmth and making colors splash behind her eyes. It felt like she was flying, blind and backwards and out of control. It felt divine.

He could feel it, the tremor of her around his cock, fluttering around him, squeezing him past the point of no return, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He followed her over the edge into bliss, feeling as if he were temporarily leaving his body even as he poured into hers.

The collapsed in a breathless heap on the seat of the limo, panting and disoriented. He gathered her in his arms again, kissing her forehead reverently.

"My beautiful Blair." Whoa, where had *that* come from? Blair? Yes. Beautiful? Oh, yes. His? He tried to wrap his head around that and glanced nervously to see if she were just as surprised.

And then he began to panic. Because she didn't seem to be responding at all. She just looked dazed and dizzy and, except for the panting, was supernaturally still. She had seemed to be there with him at every second. Had he been so drunk on the pleasure of her that he had somehow hurt her and missed it?

"Blair?!"

"Oh, my God," she finally ground out when she'd caught her breath. "Do. That. Again!"

The feeling of relief and joy that flooded through him was almost as powerful as the orgasm he'd experienced mere moments before. He smiled and she smiled back, a sultry, seductive curve of her lips.

"You'll be sore," It was a gentle reminder as he fumbled in a partially hidden compartment and brought up some tissues for them to use to freshen up. He did the honors, all the while staring up at her heavy lidded eyes, flushed cheeks and a secret smile da Vinci himself could not have painted. She looked satisfied, but by no means sated.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She could hear the wistful tone of regret in his voice, and it thrilled her even more. He wanted her still. And she wanted him. And why oh why were they wasting precious time talking when there were so many other, better things to be doing with their mouths?

Then they were kissing again, mouths meeting in a dangerous dance that kept escalating in tempo. His lips traced hers, requesting admittance and stroking her tongue with his in an echo of the joining their bodies had just completed.

He could've gone on kissing her; he could've kissed her all night long…except that the little minx sucked his lower lip into her mouth and nipped it with her teeth. Something seemed to burst within him then and before either of them knew it, he'd pushed her back down into the buttery leather bench seat again and was kissing, licking and sucking his way down her body again. Her sighs gave way to those adorable little happy noises she couldn't seem to contain. It was music to his ears. Their secret symphony.

She grew increasingly vocal as his lips kissed and then sucked a rosy nipple into his mouth, sweeping his tongue over it again and again until she was ready to scream.

"Mmm, like rose petals." He paused to lavish the same attention on the other breast.

Moments later he moved down her belly. She sighed for the loss of his lips on her breasts, then giggled when his tongue tickled its way around her navel and crested over the curve of her hip. He worshipped her thighs all the way down to her knees before moving back up again.

Suddenly, it seemed, his mouth was planting a kiss at her center and then he was looking up at her with blazing eyes and a cocky quirk of one eyebrow, almost asking if it were okay to proceed.

Surely he couldn't mean to…? Did guys actually want to do that? Blair Waldorf had been a virgin for a long time. She considered herself a maven of knowledge and the future valedictorian of Constance Billard School for Girls. As such, she had done her homework in the sex department. She'd read every text available and she knew how the mechanics of the thing were supposed to go. But some things can't be learned in books. She was consumed with curiosity about how it would feel and that electrifying kiss he'd just planted there only made her more so. She opened her mouth to give her acceptance, but all that came out was a broken little purr of pleasure.

It was all he needed to hear. Without a second's hesitation, his mouth was on her most intimate of places. He explored her with his tongue, sweeping over her silken folds and claiming her for his own. When he found the little nubbin of flesh that was her pleasure center, he settled in to pleasure her with long, slow licks, teasing jabs and ultimately sucking it into his mouth. She tasted sweet yet spicy…wholly and completely Blair.

As he began his erotic odyssey, her hands had gone from clutching the edge of the seat to grasping his shoulders (no wonder he looked so good in suits!) to entangling in his thick black hair. The longer he explored, the more her hands sank in, tightened and pulled. The noises she was making were reaching crescendo level. And just when neither of them thought it could get any hotter, she came apart with his hands caressing her thighs, his head buried between them and his tongue rapturously at home in her folds. Still he didn't stop and a few moments later she was screaming again when he proceeded to slip inside and make love to her with his oh so very talented tongue.

The text books were right…and completely wrong. But who could blame the authors for being able to inadequately describe the euphoria she had just experienced? They only had words, after all, and what were words compared to such…well, there were no words.

He moved up to kiss her again, and she knew that maybe she should've felt shocked or repulsed that she could taste herself on his lips, but she only felt more enthralled. He had just given her an amazing gift and now she wanted to give him one in return. She shifted their positions so that she was on top and then slid down his body and onto her knees on the limo floor.

"My turn," she announced with a smile and a little lilt in her voice.

He wanted to make a noble little speech about how it wasn't necessary and she shouldn't feel obligated, but those cherry lips had wrapped his half hardened cock and were now sucking him into her mouth. His words died on his lips and he sunk back into the seat and gave himself over to the experience. She could take him from half hard to more than ready in .2 seconds.

Blair was grateful that he was so hard for her. Truth be told, she was a little worried about this. He had a ton of experience in this area and she had…next to none. She'd read the books and internet articles—heck, she'd even secretly watched some internet porn on the topic—and she always paid extra attention to Samantha's insights on Sex and The City ("Honey, they don't call it a job for nothing!"). But again, some things can't be learned in books.

Any time she'd tried this before, Nate always seemed distracted and looked guilty or almost pained. And somehow something always happened to interrupt them. She snuck a look up at Chuck. He didn't seem distracted or guilty. He seemed…enraptured by her. Warmth shone out of his eyes and his hands slid through the silk curtain of her curls, holding her close but not confining her.

Wrapping her lips around him, she began to move her head up and down. Admittedly, she seemed slightly awkward at first, but what she lacked in practical experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm and single-minded passion. She added a swirl of her tongue to the pressure of her lips and they both groaned in pleasure. His excitement became her coach and aphrodisiac. She experimented with holding him in her hands while she loved him with her tongue, with moving her hands, with more tongue, with less tongue, with licking the groove that seemed to be made just for her tongue…and there was nothing that didn't elicit a pleasurable reaction from him.

She was a dream come true, a dream he didn't even realize he'd held…until he held her. He grew more and more aroused, until he could feel his impending orgasm just on the brink. "Blair, I…" he tried to move away from her, thinking he should shield her…but then she did the most surprising thing of the night thus far…

She looked up at him with an uncharacteristically brazen wink, taking him even deeper into her mouth. And he lost control as surely as he lost himself in her and her wonderfully wicked and witty mouth.

This time he was the one to feel dazed and disoriented after, especially when she licked her lower lip and slid back onto the seat with him. He told himself later that it was the lip that did him in, that made him feel that he would die if he didn't have her again right that instant, that had him rolling her back on the seat bench and reaching for the condoms in his coat pocket again.

He worried about her being sore and that he might hurt her, but he didn't need to. If anything, she was even more beautiful, amazing and perfect this time than she had been the first. He had gotten past the cool exterior and now he was glorying in the fire below. Such an incredible study in contrasts, she was. Like a brilliantly cut diamond: hard and mysterious yet full of light and brilliance. He wanted to study her forever.

But all good things must come to an end. So when they had reached the pinnacle once more and were coming down and regaining themselves, he was not entirely surprised to hear her whispered, "I think I need to go home now."

He finished cleaning them up and helped her find her slip, her near forgotten dress and accoutrements and get dressed once more. She grinned at him as she helped him tie his bow tie and smooth his lapels. When he felt they were presentable, he knocked on the partition and told Arthur to head for the Waldorf apartment.

For a moment, Blair looked embarrassed. She hadn't exactly been quiet and demure during the evening's activities. Arthur had to have heard. How was she going to look at him when she left the car? How had even known to keep driving? She asked Chuck as much.

"Sometimes I like to drive around the city late at night. It's my favorite time of the day, the magic hour. He knows to keep driving if I don't give him a destination."

"Oh." Blair still felt a little stiff and awkward. It had been a life-changing day. Here, wrapped in a cocoon of buttery soft leather, rich carpet and finely polished wood, she'd felt removed from everything on earth…except Chuck. She glanced up at the moon roof, noting how the city lights danced overhead and almost resembled butterflies hovering above them.

She was getting scared, he could tell, and he couldn't bear for the magic to run out right then. He had to keep it going a little longer. The thought of the evening being over was excruciating. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," Shakespeare had said, and Chuck always thought Romeo was the consummate pimply-faced schoolboy in whining about it. Now he felt it was the understatement of the millennium.

He took Blair's hand in his. Oh dear Lord, the handholding idiot was back!

"Of course, I think tonight had a magic all its own," he whispered.

Her lips turned up slightly at the corners, but she didn't say anything. She did, however, continue to hold his hand until they reached her building.

When the car came to a stop and Arthur got out to hold the door for her, Blair blushed and exited with Chuck behind her. He gave her his arm as they strolled up the sidewalk, their steps seeming to slow as they got ever closer to the main doors.

"Well, guess it's time for my beauty sleep," she still sounded a little awkward.

"It's overrated. You can't improve upon perfection."

The compliment made her smile. When she let go of his arm, it literally felt as though she were being ripped away from him. She turned and walked a few steps, the sway in her step hypnotizing him. Then she stopped…and surprised him yet again that night.

She turned her head around and glanced back over her shoulder at him. A saucy smile, just like earlier that evening on the stage.

"Would you like to come upstairs, Bass?"

The fluttering in his stomach felt like a million trillion beautiful butterflies.

"Well, they do say that parting is such sweet sorrow…."

He nodded to Arthur and took her arm again, following her into the building.

"Good evening, Miss Waldorf." The night doorman was quick to close the door behind her and greet one of his favorite residents. She looked different tonight somehow. Not that she wasn't always well coiffed and impeccably dressed, but something seemed different… Maybe it was her escort tonight. What a pair they made, the perfect balance of light and darkness, yin and yang, of feral wildness barely concealed under a cloak of civility. They were the sort of pair that turned heads. And to most, all they would see would be an attractive, well dressed young couple, arm in arm. But if you looked closer…and in his line of work, he always did…you'd see a couple finely attuned to each other, from the near matching outfits to the way their glances kept coming back to each other and the little smiles when they thought the other wasn't looking. Miss Waldorf never had gentleman callers this late, but obviously tonight wasn't any other night and the young man obviously wasn't any other escort.

The doorman was still lost in his contemplation as the elevator finally arrived. As the doors closed on the mystery couple, it suddenly occurred to the young man that the seam on the back of one of Miss Waldorf's stockings seemed somewhat askew….

They both breathed an unspoken sigh of relief as the door whooshed closed, providing them with privacy once more. They were kissing again and it only seemed right that the floor underneath was moving. Nothing had been entirely steady for either of them since she'd told him to guard her drink and she'd ascended the stage.

All too soon, the elevator dinged, doors opening, and she grabbed his lapels and pulled him out into the marbled hall where they came to a rest against an exquisitely papered wall, making out as if their lives depended on it. Things came crashing to an abrupt halt, however, when she inadvertently winced in pain at one of his caresses.

"I knew you'd be sore. I'm going to take care of you." And with that, he lifted her into his arms and began carrying her up the staircase.

"Chuck, stop! Chuck, what are you doing?"

"You'll see." He carried her into her bedroom and deposited her gently at the foot of her bed. Then he went into her en suite bath, turned both taps on the garden tub and adjusted them until he felt it warm enough to help soak the soreness away but not too hot for her skin. He poured a generous quantity of bath foam from the flagon next to the tub and let the water run as he returned to the bedroom.

She was still seated at the foot of the bed, like something out of a dream. He sat down beside her and picked up one dainty foot, unstrapping the sandal and slowly massaging her arch. Then he moved onto the other shoe and soon it was following its partner. His fingers slowly climbed over the curves of her calves, massaging them as well, as he sought the tops of her stockings. Placing a hand on either side of banded top, he eased them slowly down, savoring the feeling of her silky skin against his fingers.

The whole time Blair didn't say a word, just regarded him with those deep dark eyes as her breath came in little gasps. Soon she was getting in on the stripping act as well. His suit jacket got unbuttoned first. Next, his bow tie went flying, followed by his cufflinks and shirt buttons.

The zipper on her dress came down at about the same time as the zipper on his pants. She unbuckled his belt with less difficulty this time, undoing his top pants button and then they were standing in front of each other in just his boxers and her ivory silk slip. How he'd gotten out of his shoes and socks, she hadn't a clue.

He whirled her around in front of the cheval glass mirror, making her watch as he removed her pearls strand by strand. He slipped a strap from her shoulder and kissed it with a heady combination of courtly chivalry and barely restrained passion. Then he leaned back and whipped the slip over her head. Her La Perlas followed suit.

She was standing in front of him, completely naked, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt equally comfortable when he picked her up again and carried her to the tub and gently placed her in a soothing sea of warm, foamy water.

"Just where do you think you're going?" she demanded, when he stepped to the side to turn off the taps. Totally unexpectedly, she scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew them at him, giggling. She was light, effervescent as champagne, and he loved seeing that in her tonight. He bent over and placed a light kiss on her lips. Then he dropped the boxers and climbed in beside her.

"Just as I suspected, you're an evil siren, luring unsuspecting men to their watery doom."

"Ah, but you're not an 'unsuspecting man', are you? You're Chuck Bass."

"The better to ravish you, my dear!"

"Oh, now you're mixing your mythology with your fairytales!" She playfully splashed him with bubbles and a mock water battle ensued.

They stayed in the water until they'd explored every inch of each other and the water was growing cool. Then he drained the tub and rinsed away the remaining bubbles that clung to her form.

"Venus rises." Once again he returned to the classics.

"That's not the only thing rising, is it?" And she took him in her hands once more. Somehow all the foreplay in the tub turned into Round Four on her bed, tangled in the Egyptian cotton like waves in the sea. Then they were lying stretched out like castaways, panting and exhausted.

She must have fallen asleep, because awareness of her surroundings slowly crept up on her. She was completely enveloped in him, spooned even, with his arms around her and his lips pressed into her shoulder. The comforter had been pulled up over them. It was cozy and comfortable and automatically she wanted to close her eyes and let this precious dream continue.

Before her eyes could completely close, however, she caught sight of the disapproving Marie Antoinette on the wall, reminding her of what could happen when one didn't consider consequences and simply followed dreams. One ended up losing one's head…or equally horrifying, one's heart. And she had come perilously near to losing her heart tonight. The evening had begun so badly, then shifted spectacularly into the perfect night. Every single thing about it had been what he had said to her in the limo: Beautiful. Amazing. Perfect.

Too perfect.

What was going to happen when the imminent sunrise came? He was Chuck Bass, and Chuck Bass didn't do girlfriends. He didn't even do second dates. The perfect lover that he had seemed tonight was just a dream, an aberration, a shadow that would disappear when the sun came up. She needed to forget what happened tonight and go back to being Blair Waldorf. She wouldn't get hurt that way, at least not any more than she already had been. She would go put on her big girl La Perlas and be Blair Waldorf again.

So she pulled away from him in the bed, ignoring the almost physical pain she felt at being disconnected from his body, his hands, his kiss on her shoulder. She ignored the pang in her heart as she rolled over to face him and do what must be done.

"Bass." She slapped his shoulder. "Bass!"

He came fully awake and started to smile.

"Dorota!"

"Dorota? Waldorf, while I find you flawless in every other way, I must confess that your pillow talk could use some work."

She gestured to the clock. "Dorota will be here promptly at 6, which is in less than 2 hours. When she gets here, you have to be gone. Vanished, all traces removed, gone. Got it? This night never happened."

He sighed. His Victrola vixen was gone. Queen B was back. And the parting he was so dreading was upon him now. He could argue with a lot of things, but a determined Dorota was not one of them. He had no doubt the woman had resources and connections which could land him in the East River were he discovered here with her 'innocent' charge.

Reluctantly he got out of the bed and began getting dressed. He phoned Arthur to pick him up before making the finishing touches to his appearance.

She could expect him to go, but he didn't know how she expected him to forget the best night of his, or anyone's, life. Parting was sweet sorrow, but ah, meeting again….would be bliss.

Before he went downstairs, he adjusted the comforter around her sleeping form and placed a final kiss on her lips. "Sweet dreams," he whispered.

Arthur was waiting when he got to the curb. As Chuck climbed into the dark cocoon that was the back of the limo, he was already imagining the next time he would see her and the anticipation was sweet indeed.

As was the memory of her purring in his ear.

FIN

A/N: Special thanks to SnowedUnderNJ and nlizzette7 for being talented writers, excellent coaches, patient hand holders and dear friends.


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